


pan galactic gargle blaster

by idolatry (bellmare)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol, Bad Jokes, Bad Puns, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Multi, NaNoWriMo 2015, Poor Life Choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-05-28 23:45:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 14,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6350431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellmare/pseuds/idolatry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shit people say whilst drunk (or, perhaps, not so drunk) at fancy evening parties.<br/>-- Ensemble, and Bad Life Choices.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. deep sea battery

**Author's Note:**

> More Nanowrimo 2015 junk.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coping strategies, or lack thereof.  
> \-- Kai, Mei.

1.

"I'm not drunk. I can't be drunk," Kai said. It took a great deal of effort to get the words out. He glanced around, loosening his bowtie. "Is it me, or is it really hot in here?"

Mei glared up at him. He felt the overwhelming urge to pat the top of her head. He also felt the overwhelming thought of piranhas or chihuahuas floating vaguely across his mind. No, best not to think about those. Mei couldn’t read minds, but now that he thought about it … she could always be lying. Best to think nice thoughts. Nice thoughts that did not involve piranhas or chihuahuas and Mei in the same sentence. She had a funny look in her eye, and he was starting to feel uneasy. "No, it's just you. You're drunk,” Mei said. She snapped her fingers and then waved her hand in front of his face, as though doubting his claims.

"I can't be drunk!" Kai insisted, trying to swat her hand away. He missed, and ended up almost hitting a passerby. "I drank the last three with water!"

She continued to look at him, in a distinctly judgemental way. Kai was starting to feel resentful. For someone so short, she was very good at looking disapproving. Perhaps those traits weren’t necessarily mutually exclusive. His head hurt a little, trying to remember what the term _mutually exclusive_ meant. Then and again, Mei had always been highly skilled in that department. The whole looking short and intimidating thing.

It took a while to formulate a response. Regrettably, it amounted to, "f-fuck you, it totally does cancel out!" Aware of how flimsy his argument sounded, Kai hastily grabbed a glass of something from a passing waiter and downed it. He had no idea what it is. "Don't you question my methods! They totally work, and I'm not drunk!"


	2. midori buzz shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aspiring to join the student union committee.  
> \-- Sho, Savera.

2.

"You know," Sho said, looking around, "I really should've joined the physics student association."

Savera glanced over. "Oh? Why? I never thought you'd be interested in something like that. Too much responsibility,” she added in an undertone, disguising it as a cough.

Either Sho pretended not to hear her, or it went right over his head. Savera felt slightly bad, if only because, well, Sho was usually far too nice to comment on other people's rudeness. Instead, he scratched his chin and said, "well, yeah I would! Why wouldn't you think so? I mean, if I were part of the event organising committee, I'd have called tonight's shindig the Higgs Booze-on. Yes? _Yes_? I'm so good, they should accept my application on the spot."

Some passersby groaned; one stopped long enough to tell Sho to go away, though not before giving him double finger guns and a wink. Despite herself, Savera snorted at a volume she was very certain her parents would have disapproved of. But they would also have disapproved of a lot of things she'd done since running off and enlisting -- the former and the latter included -- so that was another thing. "Sho, please," she said, taking a dismal swig from her glass. It was empty. When had it gotten empty? "Control yourself. And also stop talking. At the rate you’re going, we can’t bring you anywhere or nobody will want to invite you anywhere.”

“They’d be lucky to have me,” Sho said absently, looking at something over her shoulder. “I’m the life of the party, and you know it.”

“Yeah, and someone’s had too much to drink,” Savera replied, and plucked the glass out of his hand before he could drop it.


	3. zinfandel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wine-tasting is complicated and demon palates probably aren't very refined.  
> \-- Sigma, Epsilon.

3.

Sigma gazed into his wineglass and swirled it around curiously, then took a delicate sniff of the contents. The wine was a deep burgundy, almost black. There was a lot of sediment at the bottom. 

"What are you doing?" Epsilon wanted to know after a few minutes of watching him swirl and sniff. It was really quite annoying, and he decided that if Sigma didn’t stop in the next minute, he was going to eat the glass, contents and all.

"Looking for the nose, of course," Sigma replied, as though what he said made total sense. Epsilon had long since given up questioning half the things he said. "Humans talk a lot about wine having not just flavour, but also body and nose and ... legs."

"Legs," Epsilon repeated, deadpan. He wanted to rub his hands into his face. "Are you sure they're not talking about, say, a swarm of lesser demons inhabiting an aqueous solution? I heard some summoners have started using unorthodox temporary containers for their processes."

"Yes." Sigma frowned at his reflection in the wineglass, then appeared to get engrossed in staring at himself. Or his nose. Or maybe even the ... the hypothetical nose of the wine. Epsilon wasn’t really sure. "At least, I think so. Goodness. Who knew these things could be so complicated?"

"I prefer eating humans, myself," Epsilon said, and rubbed his hands together. "Now those ones, at least, have proper noses and bodies and legs."


	4. georgian sunrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Debating structural integrity.  
> \-- Aika, Yuna.

4.

Aika lost track of her sister halfway through the evening, but thought nothing of it. For god's sake, Yuna was old enough, she could take care of herself.

At least, that's what Aika thought, until she rounded a corner and found her sister standing against a pillar, watching the dancing couples with glassy eyes.

"How much have you had to drink?" Aika said -- mostly out of reflex -- because, really, what else was there to ask? "What did you even have?"

Yuna looked over, and seemed to have trouble meeting Aika’s eyes. "Um ... peach schnapps. A few sch ... schott ... shots ..."

Aika folded her arms. "What? Geez, how many is a few? I swear to god, I hope you remembered to use wards tonight. The last thing we need is you putting on a pyrotechnics show after getting yourself sloshed."

"They were so delicious," Yuna mumbled, a little indistinctly. "I thought it was juice ..."

Aika stepped slightly closer. She reached out and tried to grab Yuna's chin to get her sister to look at her, but Yuna squirmed away at the last second. "Maybe you should go home. Are you _leaning_? Can you even walk?"

A dull flush crept up Yuna's chest and neck -- which she tried, ineffectually, to cover with her stole. "N-no! I'm holding up this pillar! It's ... um ... it's structurally unsound!"

Aika narrowed her eyes. "Yeah, uh, okay, sure. I don’t think you’d even know what structurally sound is, unless it came right out of that pillar and bit you in the ass.”

Yuna's eyes seemed to fill with tears. Or maybe she was trying to yawn without opening her mouth. “Why do you have to be so mean?” she moaned, drawing out the last word. "You don't have to be so mean all the time--"

“I’m the one studying architecture,” Aika said, a little stiffly. Her sister was still mumbling something, trailing off vaguely. She clamped her hand over Yuna's mouth, though that didn't stop her entirely. “And I'd take it easy with the peach schnapps, if I were you." When she'd assured herself that her sister was no longer going to start tearfully rambling about some childhood event or another, Aika released her and took a cautious step back. And then another, because signs looked good and Yuna didn't look like she was going to fall over flat on her face just yet. 

"You're _welcome_ ," Yuna called after her when Aika decided to start making a break for freedom. "This building'd be collapsing if it weren't for me!"

"I have no idea who that is," Aika said to anyone who looked over.


	5. salty dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night is young, the music's high, and we're already taking potshots at each other.  
> \-- Lysander, Jae.

5.

Jae looked him up and down. "My god, you look like an uppity prick. Well, even more of an uppity prick than usual. And that's saying something. That's saying a lot. Congratu-fucking-lations, you've officially broken the uppity prick scale. I hope you're proud of yourself."

Lysander raised his brows. "Huh. It takes one to know one." Jae bared his teeth in a sneer, but Lysander ploughed on without waiting for him to interrupt. "You clean up pretty well for someone who wears the same clothes seven days a week, twenty four hours a day. Did you have to take yourself to a dry cleaner while you were at it?"

"It's so weird to see this much of your forehead," Jae snarled. "And, good lord, will you look at that. I think the chandelier is reflecting off it. Put your hair back down, I'm starting to feel very uncomfortable. I could land a goddamn aeroplane on that. And maybe a frigate or two, maybe throw in--"

"As if you're any better. You look like some snooty bureaucrat. I hate bureaucrats. Especially the obstructive ones. You look snooty _and_ obstructive, and that disgusts me--"

Lottie rubbed her forehead. "Ah, beautiful, beautiful friendship. Exciting camaraderie. Love it. I'd hoped they wouldn't start with the insults this early in the evening," she said to Millie. "They haven't even had anything to drink yet. Hell, we haven't even had any starters! Aren't they supposed to serve those cute little canapes that're only really enough to get stuck in your teeth? I'm starving. And these sorts of places never really give you much to eat, too. You mark my words, the mains will consist of a microscopic architectural masterpiece of a terrine on a plate the size of a UFO."

"Ten says they'll have an angry dance-off after they've gotten tipsy enough," Millie murmured. "Lysander talks a lot of smack about HP wanting to run off and join _Dancing With the Stars_ , but I think he's thought about it, too."

"I'd vote for him," Lottie said, digging in her purse. "Shit, I can't find my money. Oooh, but you know what?"

"What?"

She rummaged a bit more, and dug out some hairpins. "Hm, might come in useful later. But y'know, I'd vote for both of them, actually. HP's got flair but Lyssie's got finesse. Don't quite know how Jae would fare against the likes of them, but maybe he's got some tricks up his sleeve. I wouldn't put it past him." Then, she frowned. "Wait, what, you're only gonna bet ten? Live a little, Mils. I also have a feeling we'll have to go for a midnight snack after this is done with."

Millie sighed. "Oh, fine, fine. Fifty? Or however much you want to eat? What say you we get some _real_ food?"

Lottie winked. "Done."


	6. sundowner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Existentialism, and parties. A riveting mix!  
> \-- Rui, Kai.

6.

"Do you know why I drink so much?" Kai asked, somewhere between his ninth or tenth glass of champagne. Rui was somewhat impressed, if only because he'd knocked them back so quickly and hadn't gotten overcome by a giggly high, or something like that. The woebegone tone, on the other hand, was somewhat more worrying.

Rui laughed. "Uh, yeah, I can think of many reasons. Because you wanna make jokes about drinking like a fish?"

Kai paused and scratched his chin. "Well, I hadn't thought of that. Yeah, sure, let's add that to the list. I like it."

"Cool. So, what's the real reason?"

Kai sighed, swirling his glass. The champagne bubbled and fizzed; some came dangerously close to sloshing over the side. "See, I woke up this morning and remembered I have finals in two weeks, and I skipped most of my lectures this semester. But that's not the point. The point is that, I finally went for a lecture."

"Uh-huh," Rui said, and snagged some canapés from the waiter that stopped by the table. He made sure to grab a few extra for Kai, just in case.

"So, like, I kinda regret taking philosophy modules because I woke up feelin' like, y'know, feelin' like hot shit, then I went to my lecture this afternoon and got told I don't actually exist. And so instead of feeling like hot shit ... I just felt like shit. Not hot shit. Cold shit. Shit that has been sitting there slowly blown by the wind and baked dry by the elements."

Rui made a face and stared down at his half-eaten canapé. "Wow, gross. Can you not talk about shit while I'm eating pate?"

Kai ignored him. "And that, my friend, is why I drink. To forget. The futility of my existence. To forget that entropy is setting in and we are all going to die and we probably don't really exist. Am I a fish, dreaming about being a man, or a man, dreaming about being a fish? Do fish even dream? How do I know this isn't a dream?"

"Oh," Rui said. "Actually, I think fish don't sleep. Because they don't have eyelids. And also they would sink if they stopped swimming." He scrutinised the wafer and pate a bit longer. "Actually, wait, no, I think those are sharks. Sharks never sleep and have to swim all the time, otherwise they'd sink. Which sucks. I guess being king of the ocean or whatever's a pretty shitty deal overall."

Kai didn't seem to hear him. He was still mumbling something, something which sounded vaguely like  _dreams_ and  _futility_ and other fun words like that. Rui sighed and decided to abandon the pate -- mainly because of Kai and his stupid shit analogy, which really did not help at all. Instead, he started on something else that seemed a bit more appetising and less reminiscent of other things. He turned to Kai, his mouth full of truffle cream, proscuitto, and asparagus. Delicious enough, though he really could have done without the asparagus. "Look, I don't really get it, but that's rough, buddy." He patted Kai's shoulder; Kai forlornly downed his drink and laid his head on the table, narrowly avoiding the flatware.

"Have the past two hundred years been futile?" Kai continued, voice somewhat muffled by the fact that he was busy addressing the starched linen of the tablecloth. To Rui's horror, he sounded ... tearful, almost. This was alarming; he'd known Kai for _how long_ now, and never found out about the sad weepy drunk bit? Concerning. Kai was still monologuing, oblivious to Rui's own internal crises. "Have they been but a fever dream, and I'm on my deathbed?"

"Wow, okay. I think maybe you should take it easy with the booze and existentialism," Rui said, "because you're depressing me too. Maybe you're just cranky because you don't have any food in you? I'm pretty sure you shouldn't be drinking on an empty stomach. Mei is gonna fuckin' murder you. Just, straight up. Actually, I think she might murder me, too, just because I didn't try to stop you from going on a bender."

"I liked it better before I did this whole _furthering my education_ bullshit," Kai said mournfully.

"I just don't like the whole furthering my education bullshit," Rui said. "Though I mean, I do like the part where I get to blow things up. Munchies?"

Kai turned blearily, cheek still resting on the tablecloth. He accepted one of the proffered canapés, and popped the whole thing into his mouth. He started talking again, through a mouthful of crumbs and salmon roe. "I liked it a lot more when all I had to worry about was decapitating some people and turning others into Popsicles."

"Yeah?" Rui said and snorted. "Well, you and me both, buddy."


	7. the last word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reminiscing about old times, and the effect of rose-tinted glasses.  
> \-- Bel, Lysander.

7.

"When did my life get so boring?" Bel asked, absently nodding to the beginning bars of Strauss' _Künstlerleben_. Lysander decided to ignore that statement.

"When did my life become board meetings and fancy dances?" she continued under her breath as the music got louder. "I miss the old days."

"The old days of casual murder and bloodshed, you mean," Lysander said, just to clarify. "The good old days where getting stabbed was an occupational hazard, and you still used your magic without a care in the world because you thought you were young and invincible."

Bel smiled and tightened her grip slightly. Lysander stared back, unblinking. "Yes, those good old days. Are you implying I'm no longer young and invincible?"

Lysander spun them in reverse turn. "Oh, no, I'm not saying anything."

"Mm, I should hope not." Bel blinked slowly, lazily, like a cat in the sun. "Though I don't appreciate that sarcasm. Anyone else, and I'd have their head for that."

"Please, I keep you grounded," Lysander said. " _Someone_ has to. I also have the unenviable responsibility of stopping your ego from getting too big. Any bigger, and we can just use it as a hot air balloon. Just float anywhere, borne aloft by the power of your high opinion of yourself."

"My. You're especially rude tonight," Bel said, raising her brows. "Woke up on the wrong side of the bed?"

"Almost pushed right out and onto the floor. I tried to roll over and you had your legs sticking straight out, your paws were right in my face."

"Yes, but I have nice paws," Bel said, irrelevantly. "Very soft."

"That's not even the worst of it. I woke up to find you sprawled all over the place like a giant goddamn trophy rug. Control yourself better, won't you? I'd have thought after all these years you got out of the habit of shifting in your sleep."

"Ahhh." Bel threw her head back theatrically. "The rudeness continues. You're so awful. Where was I?"

Lysander snorted. "You could at least pretend to be upset a bit longer, it's more convincing that way. You were talking about the mind-crushing tedium of your current comfortable and relatively risk-free life."

"Oh, yes, that." They swept past HP and Jae. HP winked as they passed; Jae stuck his tongue out. They looked like they were dancing a bastardised hybrid between a Viennese waltz and a tango. Bel raised her fingertips in a slight wave. "I don't know about you, but once in a while I get bored of how peaceful things are now. What happened to the good old days of, oh, inter-regional wars and demon sieges? Perhaps we need the BWC to stir up something huge. My poor Sword of Damocles is getting rusty."

Lysander almost stepped on her foot. "Boring?! You were almost killed yesterday! I wish you'd stop doing that. Endangering yourself for shits and giggles. And for your information, Swords don't get rusty. I'm quite familiar with all the boring theory you decided to conveniently ignore."

Bel frowned. "Pfft. I was never in any danger, and I knew full well no harm would befall me because of my excellent guardians." She glanced slyly at him from beneath lowered lashes. "Feeling mollified yet?"

Lysander growled through his teeth. "No."

"Hmph. Besides, that was yesterday! I'm bored today. You wouldn't be so mean if you saw my poor, poor Sword."

"Bel, don't go stirring up trouble. I really don't care about seeing your Sword unless it's crumbling and about to fall and kill us all. Each time you go and poke at things you shouldn't be poking at is another ten ... no, fifty years off my life. You want me to die that young? Is that it? Because you're doing a damned good job of that, let me tell you."

"You're such a drama king," she said. "And now from being plain rude you're graduating to ordering me around? Well, well. Had I known you liked that so much, I'd--"

"Argh," Lysander said loudly, more out of habit than anything else. Bel smiled in response; he'd almost managed to harmonise with the orchestra. "Bravo!" she said. "You do have some musical talent after all!"


	8. 57 martini

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inaccurate life lessons, courtesy of those who don't know better.  
> \-- Epsilon, Rio, Frei.

8.

Rio found Epsilon eventually, still sitting at the same table she left him at and apparently doing nothing in particular. Upon closer inspection, she figured he was busy contemplating the two glasses set before him, his brow creased in a frown. He didn't seem to notice when she slid into the empty seat next to him. Her head hurt; though it didn't feel like it'd been that long an evening, perhaps it was something to do with the hair pins that were intent on digging right through her scalp.

"Heya, E! What's up?" she asked, once her hair was finally liberated from the diamanté pins Nagi had insisted on sticking onto her head. While Nagi was good with creative hairstyles, she didn't seem to realise that fashion was suffering. Perhaps it had something to do with her being used to it; either way, she was unrelenting when it came to keeping clothes, hair, or accessories in place. Rio made a mental note to perhaps not let Nagi too close to her hair ever again.

Epsilon didn't turn, though she could see his eyes flick momentarily towards her, then back to the glasses. "Hello."

"Heya," she said again. "Uh, am I interrupting something?"

"No. But I thought you could tell me something. You see, I'm trying to remember a human saying."

Rio brightened immediately. "Oh! Good, good, I love charades. Or apples to apples. Fire away."

That earned her another odd look. 

She sectioned her hair, then began to braid it into a loose fishtail. "Mad libs! That's the one. Are we playing mad libs? I love mad libs."

Epsilon stared at her a little longer, then seemed to decide against asking. Which, really, was a pity; she'd been looking forwards to teaching him about the grand past time that was party games. "I think I've got it," he said slowly, and lifted one glass. Before she could say anything, he downed it, chugging the contents, then followed suit with the second. 

"Wh--"

"Liquor before beer, nothing to fear," he said, as though reciting a summoning spell. "... or was it beer before liquor, nothing to fear? That's what I want to know. What is there to fear?"

"Ah. Um, well, I'm pretty sure it's  _beer before liquor, never been sicker. Liquor before beer, you're in the clear_."

He stared at her, as though perhaps she was the demon and had just sprouted an extra head or was losing her falseform. "Is that so?" he asked, sounding skeptical. "I wonder why."

Before she could answer, Frei sidled into the other seat next to Epsilon. "It's only because they say beer's not as strong as vodka or some shit like that, see. So if you start with the hard stuff and then go easier, you don't get hit by a motherfucking whopper of a hangover." He leaned back on the back legs of his chair and laced his fingers behind his head, looking inordinately pleased with himself.

"I see," Epsilon said, not sounding like he saw anything at all. "Is it true? And what's a hangover?"

"Shut up, Frei, stop putting the wrong thing in our demons' heads," Rio said as she wound her braid around itself, then overlapped the remaining sections of hair and pinned them into place. "It's not necessarily true. Just one of those drinking myths knuckleheads like Frei chooses to believe. Hangovers aren't anything for you to worry about, though. At least, I'm about ... uhh ... eighty percent sure."

"Oh," Epsilon said. He sounded disappointed. Or even more bored than he usually did, which was quite an impressive feat if that was the case. "I was hoping something interesting would happen if I had the superior spirits first."

"... the liquor?" Frei asked, while Rio tried to process what he'd said.

"Yes," Epsilon said, sounding annoyed. "That's what I meant."

Frei snickered. "Yeah, well, me, personally? I follow a different philosophy. Beer before liquor, never been sicker. Liquor before liquor ... liquor, liquor, and even more liquor."

Epsilon seemed to brighten. "I like the sound of that."

"Good, good." Frei rubbed his hands together, then slung an arm around Epsilon's shoulders. "Now c'mon, let's go hit the bar and toast our newfound shared philosophy! And Rio will be a good friend and not tell anyone. Right?"

Rio resisted the urge to poke Frei in the eye, settling instead for crossing her arms. "Better scram before I change my mind and tell the bosses how you're leading one of our valuable demon resources astray."


	9. moscow mule

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The waters of childhood family feuds run deep.  
> \-- Ren, Nagi.

9.

It had started because he'd made the mistake of not lurking innocuously enough. Nagi cornered him by one of the ornate pillars carved with vines and dragons when he hadn't been paying attention, and had him by the sleeve before he even knew she was there.

"Durendal! Perfect, good, I was looking all over for you. Come with me."

He blinked down at her. "Why?" By the time his mouth opened, she was already ignoring him and was busy dragging him towards a woman with her back to them, halfway across the ballroom. If he tilted his head and squinted a little, perhaps she looked a little familiar. Then and again, everyone looked vaguely familiar after a few drinks and from a very long distance away. From where he was standing -- or perhaps tripping, what with Nagi yanking him purposefully forwards -- she looked a little like Nagi used to, with dark, wavy ash-brown hair and a fondness for pastel-coloured dresses.

"Cousin," Nagi said, tersely. "Second or third, who cares."

"Okay," Ren said. Then, "which one? Look, you need to be a bit clearer than that, we have a few hundred of those or something."

Nagi sniffed, managing to sound disdainful. "This is why you don't get invited to family events."

Ren thought about digging his heels in, then decided against it. "What are you talking about? Of course I get invited to family events. Because I'm part of said family. And also because, god forbid, I have to marry you and become even more part of the family one day."

"Yes, the delightful dynasty continues to grow," Nagi muttered under her breath. Ren was half-certain he perhaps didn't hear her. "Anyway, that's--" they passed a gaggle of chattering girls -- more cousins he didn't know, wonderful; Ren waved and mumbled half-hearted apologies as Nagi plowed through them with the determined air of an ox through a field. He allowed himself a tiny smile at that; Nagi would throttle him if she realised he was thinking of her as an ox while she was ... she was ... 

... while she was still determinedly monologuing about who exactly this cousin was. "--one of the hoity-toity exorcists in the family, as if we need any more of that, and she's so full of herself because of it."

"Yeah, okay, that's nice. So? Why do I have to come along for this?"

He wasn't sure whether he heard right, but what came out of Nagi's mouth sounded vaguely like, "because I wanna brag about you".

"Huh." Ren felt the wild urge to laugh bubbling somewhere in the middle of his chest. "Okay. First of all, why?"

Nagi yanked even more insistently at his arm. "She used to lord it over me when we were kids, how she was this bigshot and younger than me and didn't need some shitty Garden to be hot shit!"

Ren felt his mouth dropping open. Nagi hardly ever swore. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm a damn contractor! I eat exorcists like her for breakfast," Nagi fumed. " _And_ I'm the one getting married to someone not from a minor branch family or, heaven forbid, some fusty old adept three times my age!"

"... oh," Ren said as he stumbled after her. Well, tripped after her was perhaps more accurate; it was hard to look coordinated when he was being pulled across a crowded floor by someone with a much shorter stride. He sidestepped a little to the left, narrowly avoiding tripping over her; he liked to think he had it down to an art now, not stepping on the backs of her shoes when she was trying to bring him somewhere. "Well, look, can't you just point at me and look smug if you wanna brag about me? You already do both of things pretty well, combining the two should be a cakewalk for you."

"Stop complaining. You weren't doing anything anyway."

"Of course I was. I was lurking. Trying to eavesdrop."

"No. I need to make my revenge more complete. I'm fuelled by the rage of a childhood of snide remarks and having my thunder stolen! That stuff can kill your ego like nothing else."

Ren burst out laughing before he could stop himself. "What! I think your ego's doing pretty well, actually. I mean, sometimes it's pretty amazing to watch. Any bigger, and we don't need cars or anything, we can just hang on to you and float everywhere. How did she even become an adept? Whatever she's doing or killing, she must be shit at it if she can't even squash your childhood ego."

"I'm strongly motivated," Nagi said, rather primly. "She also used to say she'd be the one marrying you. I think she carried a torch for you then, though I have no idea why, as far as catches go, you're not too shabby, I guess."

"Arrrrrgh," Ren said.

Nagi continued with her tirade, refusing to be dissuaded. "And can you believe it? She was so rude to me the other day at the assembly of the families! Calling me a dumb kid, even though she's younger than me! No respect, that rude little shit. Whatever, we'll see who's laughing in fifty years when  _she's_ the old and fusty adept and I'm still young and cute and don't even need to eat adepts like her for breakfast, I just pick my teeth with the likes of her--"


	10. black roska

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who turned the lights off?  
> \-- Yuna, Sho.

10.

Yuna thought she'd have to give up finding Sho for the evening, only to find him back in his seat, head lolling over the back of the chair and legs sprawled straight out before him.

"Oh! Hey, Sho," she said. He groaned a little, but didn't open his eyes.

"Who's that ..." he mumbled, trailing off a bit sadly at the end.

"Um." Yuna looked around. "Me," she said, then realised that probably wasn't very helpful. "It's me, Yuna."

"Oh. H'llo, Yuna. Um, hey, I gotta question."

She peered at him. "Yeah-huh?"

Sho opened and shut his mouth a few times, as though trying to figure out what to say. Yuna was starting to get worried, when he finally managed to ask, "why is it so dark in here?"

"I ... um, sorry?"

"When did it get like this? Did they turn off all the lights? Are we the last ones left here? Is it time to go home?" 

Given his previous incoherence, Yuna was impressed; he'd managed to get all this out in a single breath, and surprisingly clear to boot. She waited a few seconds, to see if he had more questions; he fell silent for a while, and slowly lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Okay, no more questions, then. "Well, uh," Yuna began, not very eloquently. "Because ... your eyes are closed? Considering that, I think it's probably time we went home, yeah. I was gonna ask about that, Savera said she hadn't seen you all evening."

"Oh," Sho said again. He didn't sound very surprised. He also didn't seem at all inclined to opening his eyes. Then, more quietly, he mumbled something else Yuna couldn't quite hear.

She tried to lean in closer. "Sorry, what was that?"

"Can you help me up?"


	11. piquepoul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narrating people's lives, unbeknownst to them.  
> \-- Lottie, HP.

11.

Lottie was a bit surprised to see HP back at the table before her, his coat draped over the back of his chair. Less surprising, perhaps, was the fact that he was steadily working his way through the dessert course. Even less surprising was that he'd already eaten Millie's.

"HP," she said, disparagingly. He shrugged, not looking guilty or apologetic in the slightest. "What? She looked busy. They'd take this away soon enough, anyway. I'm just looking out for her, I'm sure she wouldn't want good food to go to waste."

Lottie raised her brows, but followed his line of sight when he jerked his chin towards the ballroom floor. Her eyes landed on Millie, holding a glass and stuck talking to someone. A bureaucrat, from the look of things; he had that kind of look to him. "Oh, HP, you didn't. Did you leave her there?"

HP pretended not to hear her. "This is real delicious, though I can't say I agree with the tiny portion sizes. Do you think I can convince Mils to make something like this? Perhaps in a bigger size?"

"She'd need to actually eat it to tell what it is, stupid," Lottie said, picking up her fork. "And that isn't the point. The point is that you're meant to savour the flavour."

HP made a low sound that sounded like an appreciative -- and mildly disbelieving -- hum that started somewhere in his nose. "Wow, look at you, you elegant wordsmith, you."

"You're supposed to feel it on your palate."

HP gave her a strange look. "Since when did you become such a food critic? And besides, there's not an awful lot to feel on my palate when it seems to disappear immediately. One bite. Just like that." He sets his cutlery down to make a gesture. "Poof. Y'know, I won't mind going pub-crawling after this. Not that I need more to drink, but I'm still hungry."

Lottie poked at the dessert, then cut off a section. "You can't have mine, if that's what you're hinting around."

"I wasn't hinting." HP said. He placed his hand over his chest in mock hurt. "I can't believe you said that, like food is all I'm here for! I'm ... also here for the ... uh, company."

"The company," Lottie repeated, deadpan. She resisted the urge to gesture at Millie, just in case HP conveniently forgot. He just as conveniently turned his attention back to studiously picking the chocolate crumb sand off his plate.

She relented, eventually, and gave him half of her dessert anyway. While HP was busy digging in, she folded her napkin into triangles, then into squares. "So, what's the story about that charming fellow Mils got stuck with?"

"Dunno, I excused myself after the introductions. She'll probably make me pay for deserting her, huh?" It was a rhetorical question, and they both knew it. Lottie chose not to comment, instead leaning back in her seat and trying to remember how to fold a napkin into a swan. "Anyway, what do you think about him?" HP pressed on, setting his cutlery down at last. "I always like hearing the weird shit you say about the people you see. You should go into writing, I think it'd suit you."

"Hmm." Lottie toyed with her ring, running her thumbnail over the inlaid gems. "He's ... confessing his deep and forbidden love to the field marshal. A great and terrible beauty that could either destroy us all, or maybe even bridge the gap between the human and witch species. He delivers a soliloquy that would make tears spring to Shakespeare's eyes." She paused. "Or perhaps Yeats. I think Yeats is supposed to be pretty romantic, too. I don't know, actually."

"Wooow, scandalous," HP said, sounding absolutely delighted. "Keep going."


	12. sémillon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Funeral plans for the unprepared.  
> \-- Val, Lavi.

12.

"I'm going to die," Lavi moaned into Val's shoulder as she tried to crabwalk them both out of the mostly-empty function room. 

"No, you're not. Also, if you want to throw up, tell me, because even though we're friends and have known each other forever and have had sex I do not want you puking in my hair." She pinched the crook of his elbow out of habit. Although her attempt was foiled somewhat the sleeves of his dress shirt, suit jacket, and pea coat, he still tried to swat her hand away regardless.

"I'm going to  _die_ ," he repeated, drawing out the last word. Val ignored him in favour of trying to maneuver them out of the entrance. Thankfully, most of their colleagues were already gone. As for the rest of their unit, she suspected Frei had taken off to continue the festivities or hobnobbing or whatever he called it, and Ren and Nagi had probably absconded to the rooftop or wherever they thought she didn't know about. Knowing Rho, she was probably asleep by now or something.

Lavi didn't say anything else until they were in the parking lot; he squirmed a little when she patted down his pockets, trying to find the keys. "Vaaaal," he slurred, teetering a little. "If I die ..."

"If you were still human, sure, alcohol poisoning would probably be top on your list of worries right now. But I'm sure Denebola will flush it out of you soon enough, and you'll also regret your ... transgressions soon." She patted him awkwardly on the waist, since it was the only part she could comfortably reach without too much reshuffling or risking dropping him. "You'll be fine. Where are your keys?"

"Pocket," he said, which in itself wasn't terribly helpful. What with the layers he was wearing tonight, he had a lot of pockets to rummage through. Val started to wish she'd asked him before she'd helped him into his coat. "But y'know what? That's fine. All fine. 'S all fine."

"What is?" she asked, starting to feel annoyed. "If we have to walk home because you were a moron and dropped your keys somewhere?"

Lavi ignored her. "If I die, I mean. If I die after this, I only ask one thing. No flowers on my grave. No crying, either."

Val managed to unbutton his coat, and reached into one of his trouser pockets. Success. She breathed out a sigh of relief, and unlocked the car. "Fine, gotcha. No flowers or crying. I'll add that to the funeral memo."

"Good. The memo. The funeral memo. The funeral memo that I hope you've been updating for the last few years."

"You're a demanding guy," Val said as she levered him into the passenger seat and buckled him in. "Any other demands?"

"Yeah. If it rains, tell the ... tell the clouds to ... _ffffuck oooooffffff_. I don't want it to be all sad and stereotypical like all those funerals on TV. No crying and no rain and more importantly, no crying while it's raining. What else? Oh, yeah. I want ... uhhh ... Hot Wheels. And jerky."

"Hot Wheels and jerky," she repeated, and shook her head as she slid into the driver's seat and adjusted the mirrors. "What the hell, Lavi, just how drunk are you?"

He didn't reply, though; he was already snoring by the time she started the engine.


	13. sangria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It ain't a party without a gatecrasher.  
> \-- Seis, Ming.

13.

It'd been so long since Seis last saw Ming -- let along her fully human falseform -- that she almost didn't recognise her. That, and Ming wasn't even wearing her usual form. 

She didn't pay much notice to who sat next to her -- not at first, anyway, until she realised it was someone wearing the preferred falseform of a demon they'd lost contact with earlier today.

"Well," Seis said at last, "I'm pretty sure you're not Aleph."

"Oh,  _very_ good!" The other demon said. "You're the only one who noticed." Their voice has a familiar edge to it; an annoying smugness Seis had the feeling she recognised very, very well. "Someone hasn't been submitting their field reports on time, I take it. You guys should really start paying more attention to the little things."

"Oh, Ming," Seis said, without much feeling or enthusiasm. Ming winked at her; the cheeky expression didn't sit quite right on Aleph's face; Aleph had always been one of those demons who displayed the emotional range of a clock face and had no inclination of changing that.

"Ah, was that what he was called?" Ming asked. "He was delicious." She made a great show of licking her teeth; it was almost obscene, and Seis averted her eyes because she'd seen this a thousand times. She sighed instead, and reached for her drink.

"Mm, yes, well, you have some nerve. Aren't you worried about being spotted? There're so many others around here who'd be a lot less friendly to you."

Ming scowled. "Shove it, that hoity-toity act isn't fooling me and you know it. Besides, nobody will recognise my articulated form. Mainly because I make sure to eat whoever sees it, but I digress. Even if your surveillance demons look at me, they'll have no idea who I am. Ho-hum, just some other random the summoners called in today." She tugged igly at the lapels of her suit jacket, then stared down at her hands and wiggled her fingers. It looked somewhat indecent, the way she was moving her hands. "Huh. I haven't messed with my falseform for such a long time, this feels so weird. But not bad, hey? You're really slipping, if you don't bother to check the other planes.

"Oh, shut up. Getting all preachy like that doesn't suit you."

Ming-with-Aleph's-face pouted. Seis felt vaguely disgusted. "Gosh, you're so mean, Seis. I'm telling you this as a friend."

"Since when were we friends?"

"Since we tried to kill each other a few times and decided it was more fun annoying each other?"

"Since  _you_ decided annoying  _me_ is more fun, you mean?" Seis asked. 

Ming laughed. "You act so lofty, but admit it, you have just as much fun. Anyway, I guess having Cero to count on has made you slack off a lot in the vigilance department, too. What, did he not tell you I was dropping by?"

"I'm guessing he saw right through you."

"Oh, yeah," Ming said. "I waved at him and he let me right in! I guess he doesn't really give a shit any more. One of his observation sphere dingle doodads even did a wiggly dance, I think he was trying to say hi. Tell him he's got nice moves."

"Some cadets gave him some games and he's very good at remotely controlling the finer movements of his peripheral parts now."

"Aww, that's nice. So, anyone I know here tonight?"

"Yeah." Seis jerked her chin slightly in no direction in particular. "Sig and E are ... around somewhere." She gulped down the contents of her glass, crunching on the ice with her back teeth.

"Oh, right, yeah. I think I saw them. They were with some of those cute contractor kids." She leaned forwards, chin in hands, wearing something approximating a leer. "I kinda want one."

Seis stared at her, sidelong. "Oh, really. To eat, or to keep?"

"Mmm, I wonder." Ming smiled a knowing smile, showing her teeth. Seis smiled stonily back. "Don't get any ideas, Ming. I like those contractors."

"You do?" Ming sounded surprised. "Okay, to each their own then. Weirdo."

"Shut up." Seis crushed some more ice cubes with more force than was necessary. "What are you even doing here in the guise of a BoT demon you presumably killed and ate very recently?"

"I like adventure," Ming purred. Then, in a more normal voice, she said, "disgusting. You sound so judgemental. I liked you a lot more before you developed a conscience from hanging around with so many humans. You used to be more fun! Besides, I wouldn't be worried. Well, I'm not. I think they think this Aleph of yours is still out and about hunting little old me." She smiled another insouciant toothy smile. "Relax, my disguise extends to the semi-articulated planes as well. Nobody's gonna scan me all the way at a party."

"It's not a conscience, and Aleph wasn't too bad. Partnered with me a few times, since C doesn't go out to the field any more."

"Oh. My condolences, then," Ming said, her voice laced with insincerity. "Fine, next time I'll make sure to target a demon you don't like."

Seis narrowed her eyes. "Oh, wow. That's. That's very nice of you, thanks. Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

Ming burst out in a fit of laughter that lasted far longer than it needed to. "God, no, I'm not here to make you feel better! No, I'm just here to get drunk with you. Bottoms up."


	14. shiraz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If a cow and some spiders fought each other, would that be weird, or what?  
> \-- Ren, Nagi.

14.

"... you know," Ren said, conversationally, "I think I'm starting to understand why my folks never really wanted to go for the big family get-togethers. Ow!"

Nagi elbowed him in the ribs; he was pretty sure it was accidental, though sometimes you couldn't really tell with Nagi. He raised his hand to deflect any other hits, succeeding in warding off a hit to his chin before it became a reality.

"Oh! Sorry," Nagi said from somewhere to his left. Something rustled; he presumed it was her trying to sit cross-legged, a feat made more difficult by the fact that she'd opted to wear a rather fitted evening dress with a trailing skirt. "Hmmm. D'you think anyone will notice if I rip the side of the dress a bit?"

Ren rubbed his eyes and the bridge of his nose. "No. I mean, yes. I mean, wait, no, please don't. The last thing I need is all the relatives thinking we're getting handsy under a table."

"What, you don't think I'm good-looking enough to get handsy with?" Nagi shifted and next thing he knew, she was straddling him and her face was right near his. "You're so rude," she murmured, lips brushing against his ear.

"Gotta be practical," Red said, putting one hand on her waist. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could just about see her smirking when he slid his other hand up her thigh, over her skirt.

"Make up your mind. Your mouth's saying one thing, and your hands are saying another. So, how much of it is you, and how much of it is Venant?

"Ah, you got me there. But, well, gotta maintain our honour and all, Kusanagi."

Nagi snorted. "Oh yeah? Since when did you give a hoot about honour? Honour, schmonour, I do what I want, wherever and whenever I want. I'll probably become family head, anyway -- well, if being a contractor doesn't kill me first -- and everyone'll have to listen to me." She lowered her voice; for a moment, she sounded almost like a stranger. "My word will be the law."

Ren swallowed; best to steer her away from that particular topic while he still could. "Well damn, Kusanagi, you drive a hard bargain. Tell you what, we'll re-negotiate your terms later. Preferably not under a table where I might hit my head at any moment. Even worse than being found messing around under a table is being found _unconscious_ after messing around under said table."

Nagi blinked. "Oh. Yeah, that's a good point." She slid off and scooted over behind him, then leaned her weight against his back. He was pretty sure she'd stretched out her legs and kicked off her heels, and wished he could do the same. Perhaps being short had its advantages after all.

"Well, anyway." Ren cleared his throat and leaned back against her, too. "Care to tell me who that was? Earlier? The one that sent you diving under the table in such a rush."

"One of the great-aunts."

"Oh, okay. Don't think I've met that particular one, then. Though, uh, my folks never really bothered to RSVP to the bigger functions, either. Except for weddings and funerals, I guess," he added after a moment. He took out his phone to check the time; the screen's bluish glow illuminated the underside of the table. Good grief, it felt like they'd been lurking down here for a while now, though his phone only said they'd been there for a few minutes. Time dilation at work, perhaps. "Are the relatives always like that? Pouncing on you and asking when you're gonna tie the knot?"

Nagi made a funny sound that was midway between a snort and a giggle. "Ooooh yeah. Pretty much! Honestly, you're not missing anything."

Ren uncrossed his legs and tried to stretch them out too, then decided against it. The last thing he needed was someone seeing a seemingly disembodied pair of shoes sticking out from underneath a tablecloth. Even worse, they could even decide to come closer to investigate. He really wished he could perhaps move the tablecloth a little; it was getting increasingly warm and stuffy under the table.

Nagi rested her head against the back of his; her hair pins jabbed against his scalp.

"Geeze." Ren nudged her shoulder. "Do you mind?"

"Huh?"

"Your hair decs are poking me. In the head."

"Oh. Sorry." She shifted and opted for using his shoulder as a headrest instead. "D'you think our eventual future hypothetical wedding will be anything like this?"

"What, with people hiding out under the tables hoping nobody asks them if they're gonna be the next to get hitched?"

Something rustled; it sounded like Nagi was picking at her dress. "Well, yeah. And also having to make nice small-talk to people who either want to see you fail or want to control your life."

"God, no, I hope not, that'll be just sad. No, our wedding's gonna be cool."

"Oh yeah, we're gonna play heavy metal," Nagi said, sounding more cheerful. "And there's gonna be a disco ball hanging from the ceiling."

"Fireworks and smoke machines," Ren said.

"A dinosaur show! Dinosaurs that shoot lasers out of their eyes to cut the cake!"

"What cake?"

"The wedding cake! Stupid." Nagi stopped abruptly; Ren knew she was probably doing that thinking pose of hers, with her left hand on her chin. "Our wedding cake's gonna be awesome, it'll be shaped like a skyscraper. And the cake topper will be Godzilla. And you and me, we're gonna have little figurines of us riding on Godzilla's shoulders."

Ren snorted. "Sounds like you got things covered. Tell you what, you can organise everything, I'll just show up on the big day. And look appropriately awed when you walk down the aisle. I'll even try to cry a little because you'll just be so pretty and whatnot, or whatever."

"No way!" Nagi said and pushed hard against his back. "You better come up with more ideas too. Brizedilla decree. No crocodile tears, either. I don't appreciate that tone of voice, your crying had better be genuine."

"Ugh. Fine, then. What about trapeze artists? We can hire some fancy circus performers or something. And instead of the usual waltzes, we'll play tarantella music. How's that for something unexpected?"

Nagi turned her head slightly. "Tarantella? Isn't that the director who makes really weird movies?"

"Huh? What?"

"Y'know." Nagi's shoulderblades shifted against his back; she seemed to be making vague hand motions, despite the fact that neither of them could see a thing in the dark, and that they were facing opposite directions. "Like ... you know, those weird thinkpiece movies. The one with the angry bride lady and that other one with the trippy monsters and stuff." She sighed and lolled her head back, resting against his shoulder.

Ren snorted. "Oh, I know who you're talking about. The trippy monster one's a different person. Name sounds more like Taurus, I think."

Nagi's hands dropped noisily to her lap, the sound somewhat muffled by the thick layers of fabric that made up her skirt. "Huh? What?"

"You know. That other director guy whose name starts with T. Think ... bull, not tarantula."

He could feel Nagi turning to face him, her forehead against the side of his neck. "What! Nooo, my life is a lie!"

"Yeah. Hate to break it to you, Kusanagi, but you got dunked on."

"No! How can I live with myself! Oh, god, have I been talking about the wrong movies with people all this time?" She leaned back dramatically against him. "Okay ... but you know what, that just gets me thinking. I mean, say, imagine if a bull and some spiders got in a fight--"

Ren snorted. "Wow, some fight."

"--shut up, Durendal! God, at this rate, you'll make a shitty husband, if you don't even finish listening to what I'm saying."

"Geeze, sorry, sorry."

"Okay, fine, apology accepted, even if you don't sound very genuine. Anyway, where was I?"

"If a cow and some spiders fought, would that be fucked up or what?"

"Yeah. Wait, no! I mean, what if a very small bull fought a bunch of spiders. Another very small bull, but made out of spiders. So, like, a bunch of spiders in the shape of a very small bull--"

"Okay, I kinda get it. But at the same time, I don't."

"Shut up, Durendal!" she said again. "Anyway, which one would win? Physically? Intellectually?"

"Hmmm." Ren discreetly tried to check his phone again, and was disappointed to find only a few more minutes had passed since he'd last checked. Time dilation. That was definitely it. Surely that overbearing great-aunt had gotten tired of looking for them by now, and had gone away? "Hell, I dunno. I guess the legit bull would win in a bullfight. I mean, if it charged, it'd scatter the spiders."

Nagi nodded; he could feel the movement against his shoulder. "Makes sense. But the spider-bull could trap the real one with a web and ... well, not gore it. The spider one would bite the bull and then liquefy its insides and eat it!"

"Yeah, but their formation would fall apart if they lost too many spiders. The bull could trample them underfoot."

"So, bull versus spider showdown. A draw, then?" Nagi asked. Ren nodded. "I think the bull-shaped spiders would win if they had to direct movies, though."

"Oh, yeah," Ren said without a trace of irony. "Spiders are pretty smart, I guess."


	15. jägerbomb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On gatecrashing, and malapropisms.  
> \-- Ming, Lin.

15.

Lin, it seemed, proved to be more evasive and slippery than Ming had ever given him credit for. The moment they'd arrived, he'd mysteriously disappeared -- leaving her with little much else to do but wander aimlessly, sample all the food, and eavesdrop. 

She found him a few hours later; it'd been difficult, mostly because like her, he'd also opted for a different falseform -- and a fully human one, to boot, because they were in so-called polite company. Less polite, perhaps, was the fact that both their guises were of people they'd eaten recently. Nobody needed to know that part, though.

Ming stared down at Lin, who gazed blankly up at her. He was sitting at a table, absently shredding the petals of the floral centrepiece; crushed flowers and bits of leaves littered the tablecloth in front of him like so much colourful confetti. If she were to hazard a guess, Ming would have thought he looked bored. Or tired. Or maybe even interested? It was hard to tell with Lin; he never really put much stock into learning how to change expressions.

She cleared her throat. His eyes narrowed slightly; he continued worrying at the carnation in his hands. "Well, hello," Ming said, and reached over to pluck the flower from his grasp. He watched as she dropped into the unoccupied seat beside him, then turned his attention back to the centrepiece, this time reaching for what looked like a fern. Though he wasn't looking at her, she knew he was checking out her guise on the other planes, to confirm her identity; Lin was very good at the surreptitious side-eye. Satisfied after a cursory scan, he dipped his head in a tiny nod; the most significant acknowledgement she was likely to ever get out of him tonight.

"Dark hair suits you," she said, reaching out to give it a ruffle. "So weird seeing you with it all tamed and lying-down like this."

He tolerated the ruffling for a few seconds, before ducking away from her reach to resume ... well, whatever he was up to before she found him. Namely, shredding floral bouquets and looking at nothing in particular. She tried following his line of sight -- towards the opposite wall? -- but didn't see anything out of the ordinary.

"Gosh. You're the life of the party." Ming smoothed out the petals of the carnation she rescued, and stuck it into her breast pocket. Very nice. Very rakish. "So. Soooo, are you having fun?"

Lin didn't turn, though he did give her a strange look out of the corner of his eye. Then, he lifted his shoulders in a shrug.

"Okay, that's a yes, then. Had anything to drink?"

He shook his head and, still holding the fern, made a wonky claw shape with his right hand and moved it in front of his face.

"... it makes you feel weird. Really? It shouldn't do anything to you."

He nodded, and mimed something else. Ming nodded as well. "Right, not the actual thing, but the other thing. Right, gotcha, I know exactly what you're talking about."

Ah, so he  _could_ make expressions after all. He looked almost annoyed now. He sighed and made another vague gesture she had no idea how to interpret. "I'm not very fluent. Come on, just tell me."

Lin sighed again. He seemed to do that a lot these days; she wonders who he learnt it from. Then, he waved his hand in a shooing motion.  _Forget it._

"Yeah, okay, if you say so. Why're you sitting around being a boring wallflower, anyway? Speaking of flowers, what did that poor flower arrangement ever do to you?"

Still looking annoyed, he stuck out his hand. She stared at it, then gave him a high-five and kept her hand there. The world's awkwardest handshake.

 _My bones are_ _tired_ , he seemed to be saying. Ming burst out laughing. "Really? I didn't know you had any. Anyway, I don't think that's how the turn of phrase goes."

He pulled his hand back slightly.  _It is not?_

"Well. No? You're just a lazybones. At any rate,  _my_ bones are fresh and excited and ready to roll. Or party, in this case."

_I am not a lazybones. I am tired. Let us leave._

"No way!" Ming stood up and pulled him up with her. "We are going to  _mingle_. Ugh, I've been looking for you all night so we can actually get something done and this is what you've been doing? What's even the point? I should have asked someone else to come along. Ughhh," she repeated, just for emphasis.

_I do not want to mingle._

"Too bad, buddy. We're going to rub shoulders with the enemy."

_... I do not want that either. I do not want any of them anywhere near me._

"Hobnob!" Ming continued happily. "Network! Make connections! Chit-chat!"

_No--_

She slowed enough for him to catch up, then beckoned him closer. Warily, he leaned in. 

"We are gonna find out who else exactly we have to worry about in this great big partypalooza, and then we are gonna make sure we get rid of them." Straightening, she said, "who said you can't work and play at the same time?"


	16. dirty pint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new team means new traditions.  
> \-- Frei, Ren, Nagi, Rio, Val, Lavi.

16.

"This party sucks," Frei said to nobody in particular.

Nagi slouched down over the flatware, running her finger over the rim of her wineglass to make it sing -- and sing it did, albeit squeakily. "This party suuuuucks," she said, the wineglass squeaking along with her. "Hey. Gimme all your glasses, I have an idea."

Frei stared at his. "No. Nope. Je refuse. I'm still using mine. I need to use it to get a lot more refills, otherwise I might go nuts from boredom--hey!"

This, he directed at Ren, who'd grabbed his glass before Frei could protest. Nagi grinned, satisfied, as she lined the motley assortment of glasses in front of her. "I was gonna drink that," Frei muttered. 

His cousin ignored him in favour of conducting a makeshift symphony orchestra of singing glasses -- which, surprisingly enough, almost complemented the live band. After a while, Rio started tapping along with the rhythm, while Val seemed to forget how to blink altogether. 

Lavi returned eventually, from god-knows-where. He sat down heavily, then got up again to pull his crumpled napkin off the seat. "You guys suck," he said without preamble. 

"Aww, love you too. But you looked like you were having so much fun talking to that exorcist," Frei said. "Had anything nice to chitchat about?"

"No, he was only interested in telling me about all the useless paperwork they make us fill out and how useless it is. He's preaching to the choir. Besides, why's he bringing it up with me? It's not like I have any say in what useless paperwork gets done uselessly so it can all just be filed even more uselessly. Shit." Lavi looked around when he realised he'd been grasping empty air. "Where's my drink? I was looking forwards to that."

Rio pointed at Nagi.

Lavi blinked. "Oh, so that's where the funny sounds were coming from. So, what did I miss?"

"Oh, nothing much. Watch out, though, Vajra's on the warpath again. I think she was looking for you."

"Great. Excellent. Wonderful. My evening just keeps getting better and better." Lavi put his face in his hands. 

"I hope I'm around when she does show up. I need more entertainment than some mini orchestra." Frei leaned back in his chair, balancing on the back legs. "Ho hum, give me something I haven't heard before. God, I'm so bored. Why did they invite us, anyway? Not like we're top brass or anything."

"It's about showing face," Ren said over the squeaky, reedy sound of Nagi's wineglass orchestra. "And to celebrate capturing ... well, you know what."

Frei snorted. "Ah, yes, I guess you'd know more than I do about saving and showing face. Couldn't you just have gotten us out of this with the good ol' family connections?"

His brother gave him a look best described as withering. "Use your own, you're as much a part of the family as I am, even if you're fond of forgetting that. As, I'm sure, the rest of the family is. I thought if we brought you along they'd turn us away at the front door."

"Blegh," Frei said, very articulately. "Our family isn't even that main to begin with. It's all Nagi's fault."

"I dunno, I think your family's plenty main enough," Lavi said. Frei watched as he stole Val's glass of water while she wasn't looking, and downed it.

"Still think it's Nagi's fault. She's the bigshot here and we're just the sad little peons holding Her Majesty's grand palanquin. Oh." He caught Ren's eye. "And I guess you're the chief peon, then. And I can be the disgraced vice-peon that got kicked out because I dropped Her Majesty's grand palanquin into the swamp."

"Shut up."

"Mmm, wait, no." Frei rubbed his hands together, relishing the mental image he was crafting. "Lavi is chief peon. Val is the vice-peon. The rest of us are the sad little titleless peons just tagging along behind because they need more people to hold the grand palanquin. And you, Ren, can be peon consort who's marrying into royalty. And I'm the ... uh. I don't know. The peon that holds the fan."

"Oh my god, shut up," Val said, surprising everybody. "If I hear 'peon' or 'palanquin' one more time, I'm going to strangle you with your own eyepatch."

"Oh. Welcome back. I thought you fell asleep."

"It's not like I missed anything important," Val said. "Just more of you flapping your mouth again, what else is new."

"Rude. But admit it, I have a point." Frei gestured towards his cousin. "See, if we weren't in the same unit as Nagi, we wouldn't even have to come along. But because we are, we have to suffer. And so that's the riveting story about how life hates all of us. Why couldn't you have gotten us out of this, Nagi?"

"Because I still have to  _obeeeeyyyy our eldeeeeeers_ ," Nagi said, drawing out the syllables and making the glasses squeal along at greater volume.

Frei groaned. "Ugh. Then what's even the point of having family collections? Fucked if you don't have 'em, fucked if you do. Life sucks. This sucks."

Nobody replied, though Nagi did start attempting to perform a rendition of the song the band was currently playing. Unsatisfied with the result, she started pouring everyone's drinks around and redistributing them between each glass.

"Oh, gross." Val sat down, abandoning her attempt to retrieve her drink. "Great, I guess I'll get a new one, then."

"It'll be fine," Rio said. "What's a little bit of Merlot between friends?"

"I prefer my Riesling and Merlot separate," Val said. "That looks disgusting. Like dirty dishwater."

"Spring has sprung," Nagi interrupted over a semi-successful rendition of the song. She played out a few bars, before switching midway to the next season in the series. The wineglasses do an admirable job at impersonating a somewhat out-of-tune violin.

"I dare you to drink that," Frei said, once again addressing nobody in particular. "Fancy drinks and cocktails need to have names, right? Right. So I hereby christen this one the  _Scherzo of the Four Seasons in Pinot Noir_."

"There wasn't even any Pinot in there," Ren pointed out.

"Do you even know what a scherzo is?" Lavi asked.

Frei shrugged. "Well, no. But it sounds cool. So, any takers? It'll be our team special from now on. Make it back without dying? Excellent, time to break out the team special. Lose less than two pints of blood and don't need to be checked in or doped up on downers? Well, a monkey's my uncle, team specials for everyone! I like the sound of that. Let's make it into a new tradition."

"No." Val wrinkled her nose. "That looks disgusting. And Riesling tastes like kerosene, I don't know how you can drink it."

Rio frowned. "It does not. You're just making things up."

"Yeah." Frei lifted his brows. "That also implies you've drunk kerosene. Is there anything in your deep dark cadet days you weren't telling us about?"

"Apparently Riesling is supposed to taste like fruit," Ren said.

The squeaking from the glasses intensified in volume. Nagi seemed to have given up on coaxing classical music from them -- "glassical music," Frei muttered, though nobody heard, which was a damn shame -- and apparently decided to play a nursery rhyme instead. After a few moments, Lavi started humming along; Frei was certain he had no idea he was doing it.

"Grapes  _are_ fruit," Rio was saying, apparently contributing to a squabble over what Riesling was supposed to taste like. 

"Screwed up a perfectly good grape is what they've done," Val grumbled. 

"... Riesling's meant to taste like ... peaches and honey and apples," Ren said, without much conviction.

"Oh, yeah, you should know," Frei said. "Having been to all those winery tours when you were a kid."

Val ignored him. "False advertising," she said, and snorted.

"Drink it, Val," Frei said. Nagi switched to another more annoying sounded song he couldn't quite identify. It really suit the mood of the table and the fast downhill slope it was sliding towards. "Drink it, drink it, drink it. I know you will. Contractor honour.  _We're all in this together!_ "

He sang out the last part. Val shot him a particularly aggrieved look.

Lavi shook his head. "I didn't sign up for this. I'm out."

Frei waggled his finger in what he knew to be a distinctly infuriating manner. "There's no 'I' in team, Unit Leader. You're in whether you like it or not."

"I'm not the unit leader tonight," Lavi said, trying to slap Frei's hand away. "I'm a simple peon, remember?"

" _Chief_ simple peon," Rio corrected quite happily. "Get it right. You're not quite as peonly as the rest of us."

"Oh, well, that's just wonderful. What sort of perks can I look forward to as pension? Or when I die?"

She winced. "Ow, now you're starting to hit a little close to home."

"I'll hang a picture of you up on my wall," Nagi said. "And will remember you by name, and not just your title of peon #287."

"I'm more worried about the fact that you may theoretically have about three hundred peons."

"Stop saying peon," Val said, albeit more half-heartedly this time. She only reluctantly accepted the glass Ren handed her, and peered into the murky depths. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"Okay, visuals and smell aside." Nagi tapped her knife against the side of her glass. "Every drink needs a toast. What are we gonna toast to tonight?"

"Getting out of this boring function alive?" Ren suggested.

"Not being cornered by colleagues who want to talk your ear off about things you have no control over?" Lavi asked.

Val swirled her glass, narrowly avoiding spilling her drink. "That we hopefully maybe do not die from drinking this?"

"To us being a team." Frei rapped his knuckles against the table. "Duh. A good luck toast for our first few weeks together."

"To our future, then." Lavi lifted his glass. 

Ren put his hand on his chest. "I'm so touched you're finally acknowledging the rest of us, O Chief Peon."

Frei reached over and put his hand on Ren's shoulder. "And now you're even more touched."

Val ignored them. "To the future and ... all of us, I guess."

"To the next five years!" Frei declared, jumping up.

Val stood as well. "We may not even last that long." Lavi winced.

"Geeze," Rio said in the awkward silence that followed. "Way to be a downer."

"To the next year, then!" Nagi interrupted loudly.

Ren cleared his throat. "To the next month!"

"To today! ... er, tonight!"

"To right now!" Frei said, and clanged his glass against Lavi's. He emptied it, then set it down.

"... wow, that sure was disgusting!" Nagi said with far more enthusiasm than the situation would call for. "I, for one, as the democratically elected emperor--"

"... I never said anything about emperor--"

"--shut up, Frei, you gave me the title first so I'm claiming my divine right. Anyway, I, for one, think we should make this a tradition. Stamped and sealed and issued by degree of imperial edict!"

"God, why," Val said, and put her face in her hands.


	17. kir royale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stealing the bar accessories, one at a time.  
> \-- Savera, Rui.

17.

In hindsight, perhaps Savera shouldn't have been too surprised to see Rui lurking near the bar. Nor to see him sliding something into his pocket.

She padded up quietly behind him, then leaned over his shoulder. "Do I want to know what you're doing?"

He didn't jump, though he glanced around quickly, relaxing when he realised it was just her. "Oh! Geeze, surprised the hell out of me. Uh, hahaha. Nothing! Nothing."

Savera narrowed her eyes. "... put that bottle opener back."

Rui made no move to extricate it from his pocket. "Hell no! I need it. Y'know how much it sucks when it's hot out and you just wanna open a bottle of cider or something, and you got no bottle openers, so you gotta try prying the cap off with a spoon or something? And then it flies off and busts a hole through your window. Because you are stupid and life is stupid and everything hates you and all you wanted was a damned pear cider at two in the morning when you wanna drink something but still need to study. Uh, hypothetically, that is," he added hastily. "I'm talking about a hypothetical situation that would really suck. Hypothetically."

By the time he finished. Savera was fairly certain she had a headache building. She rubbed her forehead. "Right. Hypothetically. Um. Sure, I guess? Wait, what was the question?"

Rui blinked. "Er, yeah, I dunno either. I forgot. But, see, the problem with these sorta events organised by student associations is that you end up seeing a lot of first-years. Ah, first-years. So young and bright and chirpy."

"I dunno," Savera said doubtfully, taking a tentative sip of her drink. Far too much orange juice mixed in. "You're pretty bright and chirpy yourself, all things considered."

"Oh, well, thanks. I try not to let the drudgery of life bog me down. You should try it sometime."

"Hmmm. No thanks." She raised her brows when Rui beckoned for her mimosa, but handed it over regardless. Too much citrus; she didn't like it that way.

"Man, speaking of first-years and being bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Reminds me of orientation, when we first enrolled here. D'you remember how they gave everyone free pens and highlighters and shit like that?"

"Oh, yes. I've still got some I haven't even used. God bless open days, I love it when they just hand out free stuff and I don't even have to go out of my way to buy anything. It's so convenient."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Rui took a sip and made a face. "This is more orange juice than anything else! Ugh. Y'know, when you graduate, sometimes they give you a lil' gift with your college's name and coat of arms on it, or something like that. I heard that last year, they gave them  _card holders._ Can you believe it?" He threw out his hands, narrowly avoiding smashing the glass against the wall on one side and slapping someone across the face on the other. " _Card holders_. Who even needs card holders these days. Good gravy."

"You seem to have an awful lot to complain about, given that we get free gifts."

"Yeah, free gifts for spending lots of dough on fancy laminated paper that won't help me much in the grand scheme of things." Rui snorted. "The way I see it, they ought to give out free official bottle openers or something. Now  _those_ , everyone needs at some point in their lives. I can never find a damn one when I need it, y'know?" He plucked off the decorative orange slice from the side of the glass and munched on it. "Meanwhile, I get pens and post-its coming outta my ears since my flatmate keeps bringing them back from goddamn Nerd Camp."

"... Nerd Camp."

He waves his hand dismissively. "Math Olympiad, Nerd Camp, same thing. Mathletes aren't known for drinking. Or having fun, for that matter. Which is fuckin' nuts, because I'd drink myself to death if I had to do maths for  _fun_."

"... right. And so that's why you're stealing someone's bottle opener from the bar. At the chemistry faculty ball," Savera said. "Just to clarify, of course."

"Well, duh. Look! It even has this cool cartoon on it." Rui held it up. "'The name's Bond. Ionic Bond. Taken, not shared. God, I love whoever designed these. I wish I was there when they gave this out. I'd have gotten thirty."

"Oh, that. I have about ten," Savera said. "You could just have asked me nicely."


	18. mimosa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not everyone has assets. Some just make do.  
> \-- Yong, Ming.

18.

The person who sat down next to Yong seemed very familiar; a woman with sharp angular features and dark hair cut in a straight, razor-edged bob. The eyes, though, were a dead giveaway -- dark brown at first glance, but with a hint of orange and a devilish glint.

She seemed elegant and composed enough, right up until she opens her mouth.

"Where've you been?" Ming asked in a lazy drawl. She plucked the champagne out of Yong's hand and swigged the contents, then made a face. "Yeuch. Hm. Interesting. It's so  _tingly_. I've been looking for you everywhere!"

Yong held out her hand, waggling her fingers impatiently. Ming returned the empty glass to her, still muttering under her breath about not enjoying the flavour. "What a coincidence," Yong said, peering dismally into her glass. Not so much as a drop left. "I've been avoiding you everywhere."

"What?! How rude! I'm the life of the party!"

"I'm avoiding you precisely because of this!" Yong shook the empty champagne flute to illustrate her point. "Go get your own drinks and stop mooching off other people!"

"I think the waiters are starting to recognise me," Ming said mournfully. "I know they don't say it, but I can see them thinking it. They want to give me orange juice instead. That's no fun. Can't, anyway."

"Why? Not like you to let a few waiters get in your way. I thought you'd just plant yourself in the bar and start chugging straight from the bottle."

"Mm, yes. Some of the things there taste very interesting. You ought to try them sometimes. It really gives you a warm tingly feeling. It's so nice. Not cold and tingly like the champagne, that was shit. Mils cut me off and is on the prowl, so I'm also trying to avoid her too."

"Oh? Good. I think it's high time someone intervened." Yong raised her brows as she gave Ming the one-over. "Your horns are starting to show a little, if I tilt my head and squint."

Ming sniffed. "I don't need preachy nagging about my falseform from the likes of you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Ming raised her voice to a mocking singsong. "I'm a biiiig baaaaad Heruka and I can't keep a falseform for longer than half an hour because I can't stuff my big fat articulated dragon form into such a small contained shape for loooooong."

Yong bristled. "I do a better job than you ever would in my place. Tingly drinks or no!"

"Oho." Ming smiled widely. "Is that a challenge?"

Yong drew herself up to her full height -- which, in her preferred guise, wasn't that much taller than Ming. If anything, it was just barely enough to annoy her. Yong had noticed Ming surreptitiously playing with her height before and had responded in kind -- nothing major, just an inch taller now and then, just enough for Ming to notice. Not that she'd ever said anything, but needling her was too much fun to give up.

Ming got to her feet too, then looked Yong up and down with narrowed eyes. "I swear, it's like you do this just to spite me."

"Oh my." Yong tittered a little. "Whatever are you talking about? I suddenly do not understand you. I just don't know."

"You're making yourself taller. You keep doing it! Don't think I didn't realise!"

"I'm wearing heels, this is generally what happens when you wear them." Yong crossed her arms and stared down her nose at Ming -- not that she had very far to look down. "You get taller."

"I have them too! No, I'm pretty sure you just keep doing this to mess with me. And what's with that neckline? You're so indecent! We're in polite company!"

Yong glanced down. "You're just nitpicking now. It's still very tasteful. Tasteful, but with pizazz. Besides, that sort of false prudishness coming from you? I can't believe you can say any of that with a straight face! You're just upset you don't have the assets to hold this kind of outfit up."

Ming's mouth dropped open. "What-- ugh! Why'd you make them so big, anyway? They're impractical."

"Impractical?" Yong repeated, incredulous. "They're a nice handful. Very soft. If my modestly-sized chest offends you that much, do something about your own and don't come griping at me about my falseform. I can't control why you want to look so pointy and pokey like that anyway, just looking at your elbows makes me feel uncomfortable."

"Oh." Ming turned her head slightly, as if to inspect the offending elbows. "Good, then. They make for excellent melee weapons in a pinch. Not like those funbags that don't do anything."

Yong patted her chest gently. "And that's why you're such a jerk. Because you don't have a nice big warm chest to keep your heart in."

"... that doesn't even make any sense. And I'm pretty sure you don't have anything close to what passes for a heart."


	19. sex on the beach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just a matter of asking the right person at the right time and the right place.  
> \-- Mei, Yuna, Ming.

19.

Mei raised her brows. "Hang on. Can you repeat that? I feel like my brain just conjured that up. I'm going to pretend I didn't hear what I thought I heard coming out of your mouth."

"I want to be -- hic -- manhandled!" Yuna said again, a bit louder than necessary. She leaned back in her seat, a flush blooming across her face. "Is that really too much to ask?"

Mei chanced a glance around. Thankfully, there was nobody in the immediate vicinity, and the venue itself was fairly noisy. Thank god for small mercies. She looked back at Yuna, debating whether she wanted to clamp her hand over Yuna's face to shut her up. Would she bite?

Blissfully oblivious to the machinations going on in Mei's head, Yuna frowned at her glass, as though confused over why it was suddenly empty. "I ... I mean, being treated like a princess is -- hic -- nice and all, but sometimes I just want to be  _manhandled_! I have needs! Everyone has needs! And so have I!"

Mei stifled a snort behind her hand. "Just listen to yourself. I really should record you for posterity. Who even let you into the peach schnapps again? I thought your learnt from the last time, when you were projectile vomiting for hours the morning after."

Yuna sniffled. "Schnapps is a funny word, don't you think?"

"You know," Ming said, leaning over from Yuna's right, "if you wanted to be manhandled that badly, you could just have told me. You wouldn't even need to ask, I'd have done it. I can provide that free of charge, any day you want. All you had to do was ask the right person."

Yuna blinked. "Oh. I didn't think of that. But I get the feeling you'd get too much into the manhandling."

"My god," Ming said, raising her eyes skywards. "You're so picky. Can't you just make up your mind? First you say you want to be manhandled, then you say you don't want too much. Just a little. A gentle manhandling. Why choose the lesser of two evils? Go big, or go home. Besides, do you seriously expect Lin to manhandle you under any normal circumstances? No, you must be delusional."

Yuna put her face into her hands. "It's truuuueee," she moaned. "He doesn't even do the gentle manhandling, even if I ask him. No, it's more like ... uh ... um ... gentleman handling."

Ming snapped her fingers with a sharp _click_. "See? Exactly. He's far more likely to let you manhandle him. He actually quite likes it, you know. Quite used to it, as a matter of fact." She lowered her voice. "Being manhandled."

Yuna gasped. "I don't want to manhandle anyone!" she said in a hushed voice.

Ming waggled her index finger with an air of smug superiority. "It's quite fun, you should try it sometime. Who knows, maybe you'll like it."

Mei looked around again, just in case. "You know, I really wish you didn't take me so literally when I asked you to repeat yourself. Can the two of you  _please_ stop saying that word? It's starting to lose its meaning."

Yuna turned to her, wide-eyed. "Does Savera manhandle you?" she asked. If possible, her eyes became even rounder; she put her hand to her mouth, whispering loudly between her fingers. "Did  _Sho_ manhandle you?"

Mei couldn't help herself; she nearly choked on her water.

"Actually," Ming said, "I'm pretty sure Mei does all the manhandling here. She seems like the type. Y'know, beansprout, it's your lucky day. You're caught between two expert manhandlers! We're gonna teach you the ways of ma--"

Mei dabbed at her mouth with her napkin, then got to her feet. "I didn't come here to be slandered. Oh, would you look at that. I think I just spotted someone I may know. Now, if you'll excuse me--"


	20. black lagoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interesting things happen, when you're not sober.  
> \-- Yodzuru, Eri.

20.

"Eri." Yodzuru cleared her throat. "Eri, I think that's quite enough."

Not for the first time that evening, she had to tug a glass out of Eri's hand before she could drink any more. Eri frowned slightly, staring at her fingers. "Now why would you think that? You're being a spoilsport."

Yodzuru breathed in sharply through her nose. "No, this is for your own good."

"You should try letting down your hair, just a little." Eri sniffed. "A bit at a time, if it makes you feel better. It'd do you a lot of good, if only you just gave it a go."

"Eri, I think that's quite enough."

Yodzuru touched her hair despite herself. "My hair is down," she said, a little irrelevantly. "And it has nothing to do with this! You have work in the morning, and I have to share a bed with you?"

"Yes." Eri raised her brows slightly. "I'm glad you suddenly realised that. What do both of those statements have to do with our current situation? Give me back my drink. It was delicious."

Yodzuru ground her teeth together -- which wasn't a very good idea, considering it aided in amplifying the pain building in her temples. "Because, firstly, you will wake up feeling terrible and will spend the entire day in a terrible mood. Secondly, your ... your ... um." She trailed off, suddenly unsure of how to continue.

Eri stared at her. "My what?"

Yodzuru gestured, a little helplessly, at nowhere in particular. "Your ... grafts. They ... um, tend to get a little explorative ... when you're ... not fully conscious of them ..."

"Oh." Eri cupped her chin in one hand, looking thoughtful. "Interesting. I did not know that."

Yodzuru adopted a pained expression, though she knew it would largely do nothing. "Well, now you do. So, please, just stop drinking for tonight. I don't want to wake up to your unnerving demon hand on my chest."

Eri smiled beatifically. "Aw. That's very sweet. It likes you."

"I, uh--"

"... just as much as I do, too."

Yodzuru made a face. "That's it, we're going home now."


End file.
